


Lost in Translation

by NeonPistachio



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Flirting, Gift Giving, Latin, M/M, Oblivious!Robbie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:35:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22669396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeonPistachio/pseuds/NeonPistachio
Summary: Returning from a week away in Manchester, Robbie worries that James has been having a hard time in his absence.
Relationships: James Hathaway/Robert Lewis
Comments: 16
Kudos: 140





	Lost in Translation

**Author's Note:**

> Silliness that came from I don't know where. Self-beta'd; please excuse mistakes. 
> 
> Latin comes from Google translate and various online forums. I apologise if I've mistranslated.

‘Got you something,’ Robbie tells James, after James has caught Robbie up on the previous week and asked politely about Robbie's stay in Manchester and his grandson. ‘A lass was selling them at a market our Lyn wanted to go to. Made me think of you.’

James reaches over his desk for the paper-bag wrapped box. ‘I’m flattered, sir, that you though of me at all.’

‘Course I did,’ Robbie tells him, staying standing where he is while James unwraps the gift. ‘Whenever I needed someone to get me coffee.’ And on virtually every other occasion, but he’s not going to tell James that. Christ, the lad would be mortified, knowing his old governor has… feelings for him. 

James opens the box, pulling out the coffee mug. ‘How apt a gift then, sir.’ He turns it to read the inscription, and his eyebrows fly up. ‘Sir… do you know what this translates as?’

‘Course I do,’ Robbie tells him, grinning. ‘Asked the girl for that one specially.’ He thought James would get a laugh out of it the minute he saw the Latin translation; _Quia ego sum super erudirique soliti sint, sed quid agis? - I know I’m over educated, but what are you?_

James’s eyebrows return to their usual position. ‘Very amusing, sir,’ he drawls. ‘And you thought it suited me?’

‘Seen enough evidence of it to present a case,’ Robbie grins, and now James looks embarrassed. Robbie wonders if Hooper’s been on at him again. Usually James shrugs it off, but without Robbie around to give Hooper the occasional slap down maybe it’s been worse. ‘You know I don’t mind,’ he says, but James still looks unhappy. 

‘Sorry, sir,’ he says, and now he sounds mortified. Robbie never intended this as more than just gently taking the piss but he’s obviously struck a nerve.

‘It’s alright, lad,’ he tries. ‘I can live with it.’ He even likes James’s smart-arsery, but it would be too out of character to say that. 

James looks as blank as Robbie's ever seen him. ‘I can ask for a transfer, if you want,’ he says tonelessly, and this is not at all what Robbie meant. Bloody hell, what’s been going on while he’s been away?

‘Not at all,’ he tells James firmly. ‘There’s no one else I’d rather have as me sergeant.’ Or as anything else, but he can’t tell James that. Workplace harassment at its finest. 

‘Even with this?’ James asks, holding up the mug, and he looks almost guilty. _Never feel bad for being clever,_ Robbie wants to tell him, but he’s not sure how James would take it. 

‘Especially with that,’ Robbie tells him firmly instead. ‘I’d be lost without you,’ he adds, risking a little honesty. All those bloody Oxford academics. The number of times James has got one up on them by knowing what they’re on about…

‘I feel the same,’ James admits, voice low and oddly grateful, and now Robbie’s more than a bit worried about what’s been going on in the past week. Maybe it’s time to get Innocent involved – no one should be bullied in the workplace, especially not his James. 

‘Dinner tonight?’ he offers. ‘Think we need to talk about a few things.’ He can float the idea of speaking to Innocent past James, see what he thinks. 

From across the desk, James looks sharply up at him. ‘We do?’ he asks, and there’s something hopeful in his voice that makes Robbie feel like the worst friend in the world. How long has this been going on for? How long ago should Robbie have spotted this and put a stop to it? Trust James to soldier on while being made miserable at every turn. Well, Robbie’s not going to let that continue. 

‘Definitely,’ he tells James gently. He’ll not have his lad thinking he’s in trouble, or that Robbie doesn’t care about his happiness. ‘My place this evening.’

‘I’ll look forward to it, sir,’ James replies, and it must be relief that makes his voice sound like that, all low and purring like. And his eyes look so dark, and he’s definitely sprawling more in his chair. _And I never even noticed how tense and unhappy he’s been til it went,_ Robbie thinks, fiercely guilty. He’ll have to treat James nicer today to begin to apologise. 

*

‘Coffee?’ Robbie offers, mid-morning. They’re deep in the middle of team performance reviews, and if Robbie needs a break James probably needs one too. 

‘Mmm,’ James hums, looking up. ‘I’ll get it. I can use my new mug.’ His smile looks sly. 

‘Nah, I’ll get it,’ Robbie tells him. ‘You go pacify your oral fixation.’ James’s eyebrows shoot up, and Robbie nods to the pencil James has been steadily demolishing as they get buried further and further under the reams of paperwork. ‘Wouldn’t want you to get splinters in your tongue.’

‘No, we wouldn’t want that,’ James agrees, licking his lips, and he must really need a fag to be looking like that. 

‘On you go,’ Robbie tells him, and stands to fetch the coffee. James stands too, following Robbie to the door. The lad’s in a right hurry to go for a smoke; he’s practically pressed against Robbie's back as they go out the door. 

‘I appreciate your concern over the state of my tongue, sir,’ James says in his ear as he passes, and Robbie shakes his head fondly. The last week really hasn’t been the same without the cheeky sod by his side. 

*

‘Lunch, sir?’ James offers, and Robbie looks up, distracted and frowning, trying to make something of this pile of expenses claims. The day started with a mountain of paperwork and it’s Robbie's belief that all the unpleasant climbing should be done as a one. 

‘Ta, lad,’ he says, trying to make sense of something Gurdip has scrawled across a requestions form for something technical. ‘You know what I like.’

‘I’ve got an idea, sir,’ James murmurs, and Robbie listens with half an ear. _Does that say ‘processor’ or ‘predecessor’?_ ‘But I hope you’ll give me a proper briefing later.’

‘Eh?’ Robbie looks up, confused. ‘Sorry James, me mind’s full of this rubbish.’ He glares at the paperwork, and wonders why an office supposedly transitioning to being ‘paper-free’ seems to generate so much of the bloody stuff.

‘Not to worry, sir,’ James replies, as cheerfully as he ever does. ‘I’ll find something to your tastes.’

‘Mmm,’ Robbie acknowledges, searching his desk for the stapler. ‘Maybe something hot? I fancy a bit of spice.’ Something to liven him up when the paperwork threatens to overwhelm him.

‘Yes sir.’ James sounds a bit out of breath, but by time Robbie looks up to check on him he’s left the office.

_Hope he’s alright,_ Robbie thinks with slight concern. _He’s forgotten his coat._

*

Robbie knows he tends to look a bit sloppy after a frustrating day of paperwork, what with his tie half off and his sleeves rolled up, but going by the way James is staring he must look a right fright. Mind you, next to his polished sergeant there’s really no way he can compare. 

‘Have I got something stuck to me arm?’ he asks at last, when James hasn’t stopped staring after another few minutes. He can’t see anything, but there must be something for James to be so fixated.  
‘What?’ James shakes his head, as though coming out of a trance. ‘Just enjoying the view, sir.’

Robbie huffs. ‘All I get is cheek from you,’ he grumbles, but he doesn’t mind really. Banter and piss-taking have always been part of their friendship, and Robbie finds himself sometimes half-voicing remarks to James before realising he’s not there. It always sends a brief pang through him. He’d like it if James was always there. 

‘A sincere complement,’ James protests, and Robbie shakes his head. 

‘Give over,’ he retorts, trying not to imagine more to James’s words. ‘Could do you for insubordination,’ he jokes. ‘Being flippant to a senior officer.’

‘I’ll take anything you choose to dish out, sir,’ James replies, and now Robbie's definitely reading things into James’s words. _Stop it!_ he tells himself crossly. _He’s your sergeant, he’s not interested in you, and he’s already feeling insecure cos you’ve not been keeping an eye on things and Hooper and his ilk are being arsey. Don’t go adding to that,_ he warns, and tamps down the wishful thinking.

‘Go an’ get us a coffee,’ he tells James, hefting up the latest box to go back to HR. ‘Soon as we’ve finished this lot we can head home,’ he finishes, then curses himself for the slip. His flat is not their home, no matter what he might wish. _Get a grip,_ he tells himself firmly. 

‘Yes sir.’ James sounds distracted again, and he’s still staring at Robbie's arms. He’ll quickly nip into the bathroom on the way back and see if he can use the mirror to spot this apparently fascinating smudge.

*

‘Finally,’ Robbie sighs, stretching his back and groaning in relief. ‘Thought today would never end.’

‘So did I,’ James agrees, and he’s obviously keen to leave, already halfway into his coat, car keys in hand. ‘Back to yours?’

‘Yeah,’ Robbie nods. ‘I’ll pick us up some dinner on the way.’

‘You don’t want me to do that?’ James offers, and Robbie shakes his head. 

‘Nah, I’ll get it. You can let yourself in, you’ve got a key. Unless you want to pick up something to drink? You could stay at mine tonight.’

‘Yes,’ James replies, and it sounds like it’s gasped. Robbie feels a warmth starting in his stomach; by the sounds of it, James has missed their quiet nights on the couch as much as Robbie has, even if he hasn’t missed them in the same way. 

‘Go on then, lad,’ he says, unable to keep the fondness out of his voice. ‘I’ll be right behind you.’

*

The flat is in semi-darkness when Robbie arrives, the kitchen light and one corner lamp the only illumination. James is waiting, two beers already open on the coffee table and Robbie wonders if the lad should be drinking if he’s got a headache, the way the dim lighting suggests he does. But James is an adult who knows his own body, so Robbie will bite his tongue.

‘You wanted to talk?’ James says, sprawled on Robbie’s couch. Robbie can’t see him very well, but he seems to be staring pretty intently. _Glad he’s not avoiding the subject,_ Robbie thinks approvingly. 

‘After tea?’ he suggests though. ‘I’m about to pass out from starvation.’

‘Well, we wouldn’t want that,’ James agrees. ‘You’ll need your strength later.’ Somehow, he manages to sprawl even more, drawing Robbie’s attention to his long, long legs, and Robbie has to busy himself with the take out containers to stop himself staring. James really is very attractive like this, and the low light makes everything seem intimate in a way James surely didn’t intend. 

Robbie doesn’t remember the precise moment he started noticing things like the length of James’s legs, or the firm muscles of his shoulders, or the way his tailored suits flatter his arse, but he certainly remembers when he realised he’d been noticing them. _That_ was a weekend to remember, hiding his sudden sexuality crisis while staying at Laura’s, with the object of that very sexuality crisis sleeping in the next room. After two days of James lounging around in tight shirts and tighter jeans Robbie was practically ready to climb the walls. 

Then, close on the heels of that realisation came the rest. James sitting with him in the dentist’s office to have that bloody tooth seen to, then taking him home afterwards when he was dopey from the injections and grumbling incoherently, well… sometimes it’s the little things that open your eyes to the want for more.

They pass containers of dolmades, meat skewers, koftas and James’s favourite courgette balls back and forth, talking about nothing as they do; what James has been reading, Newcastle’s prospects in the FA cup, whether Peterson or his new sergeant are more gung-ho. It’s comfortable, home-like, and Robbie wishes they had more evening like this. James has been pulling away a little lately, and combined with his comments about Laura Robbie has begun to wonder if he’s figured out Robbie's feelings and is trying to let him down gently. Robbie won’t make a thing of it, but if he can at least keep James’s friendship he’ll be content. 

‘Another?’ he asks when the food is all gone, picking up his own empty beer bottle and reaching for James’s.

‘I think I’ve had enough,’ James replies, and his voice is doing that deep, husky thing again. _Maybe he’s coming down with a cold,_ Robbie thinks with concern. 

‘Hot drink then?’ Robbie offers. ‘Think I’ll have a cuppa.’

‘If you’re making,’ James agrees, and Robbie smiles approvingly. 

‘An’ then we should have that talk.’

‘Yes,’ James agrees again, and he sounds much more interested in talking than in tea. An unusual position for his somewhat evasive friend, but Robbie is prepared not to question small mercies. Trying to get James to discuss workplace bullying if he doesn’t want to would be nigh-on impossible. 

Robbie rummages in the cupboards while the kettle warms, disappointed to find he’s out of the biscuits James likes. ‘Tea or coffee?’ he calls. 

‘Don’t care,’ James calls back, and that is very unlike the lad. Things must be in a bad way.

‘Made you tea,’ he tells James when he brings the mugs through. ‘I know how much you hate the instant stuff.’

‘You’re too good to me,’ James murmurs, taking the proffered mug and setting it aside, turning back to Robbie the second the mug is down.

‘Rubbish,’ Robbie replies, setting down his own mug and retaking his seat on the couch beside James. ‘If anything, you’re too good to me,’ he says honestly, then clears his throat. He keeps his gaze on his mug until the embarrassment of hinting at his feelings fades. ‘But yeah, talking.’ He turns to James beside him, and James is giving him a look that Robbie doesn’t know how to interpret. 

‘Sir,’ James says, and his voice is definitely hoarse now. Maybe Robbie should have put some lemon and honey in his tea. He doesn’t want his James sick, not after he’s just spent a week without him. ‘Sorry sir,’ James continues, ‘but I can’t wait any longer.’ And suddenly he’s closed the distance between them and is kissing Robbie intently. 

James’s lips are firm and mobile against his, and after a second of utter shock Robbie is quickly lost in the taste and feel of his friend’s mouth, the little sigh James gives when Robbie starts to kiss him back, the feel of his hands cupping Robbie's face. Kissing James; it’s like a drug, and the heady undertow drags Robbie blissfully away. It’s better than he imagined.

Eventually James breaks the kiss and rests his forehead on Robbie's shoulder. ‘I’ve been thinking about doing that all day,’ he says softly, and moves to place a kiss on the skin of Robbie's neck. Robbie stares down at the blond head resting so peacefully against him.

‘Not to put too fine a point on it,’ he says carefully, still more than a little shocked, ‘but where the _bloody hell_ did that come from?’

James leans back while still staying close, a tiny, perfect smile on his face. ‘I know you wanted to talk first but I couldn’t wait any longer.’ 

‘Aye, I did want to talk,’ Robbie says, trying not to sound too agitated. ‘Not about that, though!’

James gives him a puzzled look. ‘What about, then?’

‘I thought you were being bullied at work!’ Robbie blurts, and James rears back.

‘What?’ He sounds both shocked and horrified, and Robbie is still too surprised to consider what he’s saying. 

‘All that stuff this morning, about asking for a transfer! I thought Hooper had been getting on at you again! I was going to try an’ get you to speak to Innocent!’

‘Oh God,’ James gasps, and his usually pale face turns absolutely bloodless. ‘You weren’t flirting with me.’ It’s half question, half statement, and Robbie gapes at him.

‘Flirting? What are you on about, man?’

‘That mug!’ James exclaims and Robbie can only stare at him in bewilderment. 

‘What do you mean?’

‘You gave me that mug,’ James says, and his voice is turning slowly from confused to matter of fact, but there’s a blankness to it Robbie doesn’t like. ‘You said you knew and you didn’t mind, and that we needed to talk, and all day I’ve been flirting with you and it seemed like you were flirting back.’

‘I’ve not been bloody flirting with you,’ Robbie protests indignantly. ‘I’m your superior officer; I can’t do that. And why would you think me giving you a mug means I want you to flirt with me?’ He runs out of steam towards the end of this protestation, brain finally taking over. There’s something off here. 

James has apparently come to the same conclusion. ‘Sir,’ he says, very formally. ‘When you said you selected that mug and you knew what it translated to, what did you mean?’ He sounds like he’s interviewing a witness, and Robbie’s falling into the same mindset; analyse the evidence without making assumptions.

‘The stall had a list,’ he says, trying to remember exactly what it said. ‘But all the mugs were in Latin. I just pointed to the translation I wanted an’ asked the lass to find it.’

‘And the mug you asked for said what?’ James asks, and somehow, without moving, he’s drawn further away from Robbie, and Robbie has a sudden realisation that he’s going to have to fix things, somehow, or James will leave and everything will be awkward. 

‘I think I gave you the wrong idea,’ he says abruptly, and James looks confused beneath his professional, blank expression. 

‘That was the mug you asked for?’ he asks, and Robbie rolls his eyes at the both of them. 

‘No,’ he huffs. ‘Think I gave you the wrong idea about you kissing me.’

Now James very obviously draws back. ‘Sir, I -’ he looks mortified, and Robbie isn’t going to let this go any further. 

‘I liked it,’ he says across James, and carries on in the stunned silence, ‘I liked it a lot.’

‘You did?’ James doesn’t sound like he believes Robbie, and Robbie tells himself that James took the first step, now Robbie just has to take the next. 

‘Been wanting that for a while,’ he admits quietly. ‘Didn’t think you’d be interested.’

There’s silence. James is holding himself tense, like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Robbie to grin and laugh and tell him he’s pulling his leg. Robbie takes a deep breath and tries to show James how much he wanted it. ‘Couldn’t say anything,’ he adds quietly. ‘If you didn’t want anything, it would have ruined things. An’ on top of that, I’m your boss.’

‘So you didn’t mind me kissing you,’ James says slowly, like he’s going over a statement to check facts. Robbie can understand the urge. There’s too much at stake here to make a mistake.

‘I _liked_ you kissing me,’ Robbie clarifies. ‘Or did you miss me kissing you back?’

‘I thought I was imagining things,’ James says, with a hint of amazement in his voice. ‘Or you were acting on instinct.’

‘Was instinct to kiss you back,’ Robbie agrees, ‘but I’d not have done the same to just anyone.’

‘What about to Dr Hobson?’ James asks, wariness replacing the amazement, and Robbie huffs. 

‘Laura an’ me are friends, but I don’t think we’re ever going to be more. Besides, I’ve been interested in someone else for a while.’

‘You have?’ James sounds even warier, and Robbie rolls his eyes, knowing James well enough to be aware of what he’s thinking. 

‘You, you daft pillock,’ he says, even as something in him aches that James is so uncertain. ‘Said that already, didn’t I?’

‘Forgive me if this comes as something as a surprise,’ James murmurs, and Robbie hides his grin. _There’s_ his cheeky sod.

‘Surprised you didn’t pick up on it, clever lad like you,’ he teases.

‘I’m surprised you missed _my_ interest, a seasoned detective like yourself,’ James shoots back, and Robbie snorts.

‘Thought I was reading things into it,’ he admits, and James shakes his head in mock sorrow. __

_‘It dared not speak, even in look or motion, but chained within itself its proud devotion.’_ Robbie raises his eyebrows in question and James fills him in. ‘Shelley. Not one of my favourites.’

‘Right,’ Robbie says, unimpressed. ‘Anythin’ else you want to say?’

‘About Shelley?’ James asks, then relents. ‘Sorry, sir.’

‘Robbie,’ Robbie corrects, and James nods, half-shy. 

‘Robbie. You’re… interested in me.’ He’s back to ‘just the facts’. ‘You’ve been interested for a while, but didn’t want to risk anything by making it plain.’

‘Aye,’ Robbie agrees. ‘Didn’t expect you to be interested back.’

‘We’ve established _that_ ,’ James says, a hint of exasperation in his voice, and Robbie is pretty sure it’s aimed at the both of them. ‘I suppose the next question is,’ James continues, ‘what are you interested in?’ And this is the big question, isn’t it? James is clearly keen on something physical, but is that all he wants? Robbie himself wants more than that; he’s a romantic at heart, and he’s never been too keen on the idea of emotionless sex just to scratch an itch. Could James want something more, with him?

James clearly senses his indecision, but just as clearly gets the wrong end of the stick. ‘It doesn’t have to be anything serious,’ he says, and reaches for his neglected tea. His fingers are twitching, and Robbie is certain he’ll vanish off for a smoke soon. He’s equally certain that if they don’t get this sorted before James reaches for the cigarette packet he won’t come back, and Robbie won’t see him again until work tomorrow.

Robbie gathers his courage, heart in his mouth. ‘What if I wanted something serious?’ James’s head snaps round to look at him, and Robbie can almost feel the weight of his gaze as he scrutinises Robbie's expression. Robbie lets him, showing everything he’s feeling; hope, fear, affection, uncertainty. Appreciation. He’s guessing it’s the last one that causes the intake of breath. 

‘What do you mean, serious?’ James asks carefully, and Robbie huffs. 

‘What d’you think, man?’ He tempers his exasperation. It’s not James’s fault; this is uncertain ground – if things were reversed, he’d be treading carefully too. ‘I’d like to see if we could have something more,’ he says instead of snapping again. ‘Dating and the like. But it has to be your decision. If you’re not interested in that, we don’t have to speak about this again.’ He’d like to tell James exactly what he wants, but James is his sergeant as well as his friend, he can’t push, and most importantly, he’s still not sure what James is interested in. He’s not going to show just how deeply invested he is before they’ve even worked that out. 

‘Dating and the like.’ James sounds like he’s rolling the words around his mouth, testing and considering. Robbie waits for him to give his verdict. In some ways, he feels as nervous as the night he asked Val to marry him. James is his best mate; one way or another, this is going to change things. 

Of course, when he’d asked Val she’d already been hinting for months, whereas James can be one of the most bloody inscrutable creatures on earth when he wants to be. ‘Dating and the like,’ James says again, and Robbie, on edge, wants to snap at him to get on with it. He restrains himself. 

‘Aye,’ he says instead, and hopes James isn’t mocking him. 

James clearly sees his nerves. ‘I’d like that, Robbie,’ he says finally, and his small, genuine smile widens into a grin at Robbie's unintentional sigh of relief. ‘You were really worried?’ James asks. ‘I did kiss you first.’

‘I know, but you might have just been after me for sex,’ Robbie retorts, and catches his breath at James rakes him with his gaze, slow, thorough and positively filthy. 

‘Well, not _just_ for sex,’ James muses. ‘But I won’t deny that I’m looking forward to that too.’ Again without moving, he suddenly seems closer to Robbie once more. ‘Do I have to wait for the third date to kiss you again?’ he asks, lightly mocking, eyes hot, and Robbie growls and answers that question for him. 

*

James wriggles on Robbie's orthopaedic mattress. ‘Excellent support,’ he notes approvingly. Robbie, splayed out beside him, can’t do more than grunt as he tries to catch his breath. After the last hour, how does the lad still have energy? When James wiggles again, however, he finds the strength to throw an arm over his waist to hold him still. James relaxes with a sigh, moulding himself into the curve of Robbie's body. ‘I do hope you’ll respect me in the morning,’ he murmurs, and Robbie pinches his cheeky sod lightly on one bony hip, causing James to wriggle against him in a way that has Robbie wishing he was ten years younger. 

‘’Course I will, love,’ he murmurs absently, still enjoying the feel of James in his arms. James stills, and Robbie realises what he said. He could take it back, but to be honest he’s feeling a lot more confident in their future now. 

‘Meant it,’ he says quietly, dropping a kiss on James’s shoulder blade, the easiest place to reach. After a long moment, James relaxes again. 

‘Good,’ he whispers back. ‘I’d hate to be alone in this.’

*

Breakfast is a hurried affair, toast eaten between kisses whilst standing against the counter, before James has to rush off back to his to get ready for work. Robbie takes a little more time, straitening the disordered couch and putting the bedclothes on to wash before he makes his own way in. He arrives before James, not surprising really, and goes to fetch them both a coffee. 

James is in the office when he returns, already industriously sorting through Innocent’s latest batch of forms. ‘Morning sir,’ he greets, as though he didn’t wake Robbie up in a manner not mentioned in the official force guidelines, which reminds Robbie, they’ll have to speak to Innocent in the not-too-distant future. 

‘Morning James,’ he replies, as casually as he can in the face of James’s tiny, wicked smirk. He sets the coffee down on the desk, and James looks at it, eyebrows raised. 

‘You didn’t use my new mug, sir,’ he comments, and Robbie had honestly forgotten about the bloody mug that started all this. 

‘You can use it when you fetch the next lot,’ he tells James, who grins. 

‘You never did tell me, sir, what you though it said.’ There’s something in his face that Robbie should take as a warning, knowing James, but he’s feeling a bit giddy and reckless this morning. 

‘I meant to get you the one that said ‘I know I’m over educated, but what are you?’’ he tells James, who nods solemnly.

‘ _Quia ego sum super erudirique soliti sint, sed quid agis?_ Much more workplace appropriate,’ he says, gathering a small pile of paperwork and standing.

‘Why? What does it actually say?’ Robbie demands as James crosses to hand him the stack. 

‘ _Estne volumen in toga, an solum tibi libet me videre?_ ’ James tells him, the dead language sounding much more alive on his tongue. He walks round the desk, ostensibly to give Robbie the paperwork, and bends down to speak in his ear. ‘That translates to ‘Is that a scroll in your toga, or are you just happy to see me?’

A burst of laughter forces its way out. ‘No wonder you thought I was flirting with you,’ Robbie acknowledges quietly, amused at the thought. Beside him, James straightens up again. 

‘I hope you know I’m always happy to see you, sir,’ he says, face serious but eyes mischievous. ‘And I never carry scrolls.’

‘Thank you, sergeant,’ Robbie says, as seriously as he can manage. ‘Useful information.’

‘Yes sir,’ James agrees. ‘I wouldn’t want you to get the wrong impression.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Robbie assures him. ‘Some things don’t need translating.’


End file.
